


It Pains Me To Say

by laughablyunimportant



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol, Damien claws his way into being a person, Explicit Language, F/M, Gambling, Gen, Mind Manipulation, Painkillers, Pedophilia mention, Rape Recovery, Recovery, Redemption, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Suicidal Ideation, physical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 00:03:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14883818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughablyunimportant/pseuds/laughablyunimportant
Summary: If someone is in pain, an unspeakable amount of pain, are you obligated to help them through it? Regardless of the cost to yourself?In another world, it's Damien who gets a concussion that messes with his ability. Chloe takes it upon herself to help.





	1. I don't want to be here.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been languishing unfinished for a while. I'm now posting it as-is with a sort of, eh, good enough philosophy. The style changes in the midst of chapter four.

Damien thought he’d lost as much control as it was possible to lose. 

Turns out he hadn’t been quite imaginative enough.

“Joanie, don’t,” Mark says, expression pained. “It wasn’t his fault.”

The tension in the room thickens as silence fills the space after Mark’s words. 

“If he made you do something--” Bright’s voice is tight, angry.

“He didn’t,” Mark says. “I did.”

A hollow feeling bottoms out in Damien’s stomach. But if there’s one consistency in this awful quagmire of wants and desires, it’s that no one wants Damien to speak. So he doesn’t.

“You--” Sam’s voice falters. Her breath is quick, shallow, her eyes fixed on the bruise on Mark’s neck in the exact shape of Damien’s hand. 

Her disappearance through time is anticlimactic, near silent against the pandemonium that follows.

“Sam, wait!”

“You _what_?”

“Mark, we need to talk about this--”

They’re babbling over each other, shouting, emotional messes, no one bothering to just _listen_. Damien can hear what they want, what they all want even if none of them are saying it, and it’s crushing him.

He shouldn’t be here. Him and Mark should never have happened. It was a mistake the minute it did, he knew it, he _knew_ it, but Mark couldn’t just _leave him there_ , and now Damien’s gone and ruined everything, something so fragile and full of hope crushed under his heel and it’s only going to get worse as long as he’s here. 

He falls to one knee with the weight of it, gasping.

“Damien? What’s wrong? Chloe, grab him.”

Hands settle on his shoulder and arm and he flinches, pulling in tighter, smaller, waiting for the ground to swallow him up.

“What’s happening?” Chloe’s voice is loud in his ears and he wishes, so desperately, that he wasn’t here.

“Shit,” Mark breathes. “Fuck.” The sound of his footsteps feel distant and unreal as they make their way past.

“Mark? Mark, where are you going? Mark!” Dr. Bright pauses for the briefest of moments, staring at Chloe with wide, uncertain eyes. “Stay with him,” she says, and then she’s out the door, running after Mark.

“Oh no,” Chloe says. She’s kneeling over him, and Damien distantly wonders when he ended up on the floor. His knees are tucked up against his chest, arms wrapped around them, squeezing, like if he tries hard enough, he can just squeeze himself to nothingness.

“I don’t know what to do,” Chloe says. “I don’t know what’s wrong! I can’t read your thoughts and Mark just felt awful and Dr. Bright was _so worried_ , I don’t know what’s wrong with you, why won’t you say anything?”

Damien wheezes. “I don’t want to be here.” The words are painful, ripped out of him, confirmation of an existence he is vehemently trying to deny.

“We have to stay here until Dr. Bright gets back,” Chloe says. But she doesn’t particularly want to stay here. She wants to follow Dr. B, find out what’s going on. She wants them to come back, _Sam_ to come back, to not have to deal with Damien alone, with what he--

\-- _fwip_.

Speak of the fucking devil.

“I’m sor--Chloe! What happened?”

Damien only thought the feeling was bad earlier, the wanting to disappear, to not exist, not be seen. But Sam’s presence magnifies the feeling, sharpens and gives it focus. He’s more certain than he’s ever been that he _doesn’t want Sam to see him_. 

“I don’t know!” Chloe says. “No, Mark’s fine, at least I think he is--he looked fine--Dr. Bright went after him and told me to stay here--not long, only a few minutes ago--it happened right after you disappeared, but I don’t know what it is. I think Mark did, but he was all jumbled up, and then he ran out--”

“Slow down,” Sam says, sinking down to kneel next to Chloe. “Start from the beginning.”

_don’t look at me, don’t look at me, **don’t look at me**_

Chloe takes a deep breath. “Right. So. You disappeared--don’t feel bad, it’s not like you meant to, and what Mark said--yeah. So you disappeared, and then Damien just, collapsed.”

He can feel the moment she focuses on him, disgust and a strange sense of mourning curling in his stomach, so much more potent now without distraction.

“Mark didn’t want to leave because you’d be back and he wanted to explain, but he ran out anyway, he was feeling guilty--”

The feeling intensifies again. He’s curled in so tight it hurts. He doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want them, he doesn’t want to be here for any of this, he just wants to _not exist_.

“--and Dr. Bright followed, but she told me to stay here. She seemed worried about him. No, Damien. I mean, she was worried about Mark too, but it was like that was something normal for her, this comfortable worry she’d learned to live with. She was actually _scared_ for Damien.”

Damien lifts his head off the floor, pushing past the desire to not be noticed. It’s too late for that; they’re kneeling next to him on the floor. He’s damn well been _noticed_.

Might as well do something about it.

So he lifts himself up, just a bit, still on his side, still curled up as small as he can make himself as somewhere far away Chloe asks what he’s doing, and _slams_ his temple into the tile as hard as he can.

Darkness.

__________________________

The next thing he knows is pain.

Pain and _noise_.

People are somewhere above him, voices grating against the inside of his skull. He’s on the ground, something soft pillowed under his head. Something tickles at his face. He reaches up to touch it, and pulls his fingers away to find them covered in blood.

The voices get closer, get louder, and he reaches out on instinct, shoving the desire for _quiet_ into their brains.

It works. Sort of. 

Two of them stop talking, but Damien has little time to appreciate this as pain sears its way across his skull, blooming in a technicolor display of agony.

He passes out.

__________________________

He has better luck the second time around.

For one, it’s quiet. And two, there’s only one mind there, buzzing up against his, though he can’t quite pin it down, and just the thought of trying makes his head throb, so he doesn’t.

“Damien?”

The voice is soft, close, and feminine. Chloe. 

He starts to open his eyes, then hisses and squeezes them closed. 

“Are you okay? Do you want me to get you a washcloth to put over your eyes?”

“What happened?”

An intake of breath. He opens his eyes again, squinting at the light, hating the helplessness of not being able to see. 

Chloe’s above him, silhouetted in the sunlight filtering in through the blinds. Someone’s turned off the fluorescents, which is good. He can make out that she’s biting her lip, worrying at it with her teeth, and that

she’s been crying.

“I don’t know,” she says, and he hears it now, the waver in her voice. “You woke up, made Sam and Caleb stop talking, and then passed out again.” Her brown eyes are wet, brimming with moisture. “Caleb said you were in pain. A _lot_ of pain.”

“Where’re they?” He feels it like the ghost of an echo, wanting Sam to forgive Mark, for Damien not to be there, to disappear. But this time, he recognizes it for what it is: Mark’s desire. Mark’s want.

(He can’t tell if that’s worse.)

“They went outside,” she says. “To wait for Dr. Bright and Mark to get back.”

He closes his eyes again, the pain of keeping them open and focused too much. (Besides, it’s just Chloe. He’s not sure she could hurt someone if she tried.)

“Damien? You still here?”

He hums an affirmation.

“What happened to you?”

She wants him to answer. He can feel it.

But he can also feel that he doesn’t have to. Which is...something. Something.

“Where’s Mark?”

“I don’t know,” Chloe says. “He hasn’t come back yet.” Her curiosity hums quieter than he would have expected, wanting and not wanting to know if what Mark said was true.

“He didn’t make me do anything,” Damien says. “I wanted it.” He can’t tell if he’s lying. He hasn’t had time to think through what he’s actually wanted, this past week. If he was capable of wanting anything.

“Sam shouldn’t have punched you,” is all she says, then falls into blessed silence.


	2. Maybe I want to be hurt.

Dr. B flicks lowers the pen light, clicking it off. “Well,” she sighs. “Probably.”

“Probably?” Chloe asks.

“I’m not trained in medicine,” she says, “but the chances of concussion are fairly high.”

“So what do we do?”

“Hey,” Damien says. “Still right here.”

It’s just the three of them, Bright having sent Caleb away with promises of a reschedule, Mark and Sam on their way to Bright’s place, putting enough distance between Mark and Damien that there’s no chance of another incident. Damien’s pretty sure he could make it back to his place on his own, but pretty sure isn’t sure, and he’s got a splitting headache besides. 

“And we’re all very happy about that,” Bright says, with all the warmth of a goddamn robot. “I’m not sure what you thought you were doing--”

“I told you, that was a misunderstanding--”

“But I’m concerned by the prospect of leaving you alone.”

“I’ll do it.” Chloe’s got her hand half-raised, expression nervous. “No, I don’t really want to, but someone has to, right? No, you have Mark to worry about--I know, but I don’t mind. I’m the only one he can’t influence. It just makes sense.” She looks between the two of them. “...none of that was out loud, was it.”

Joan gives her a smile, half tired, half fond. “No. But you make a valid point nonetheless.”

“This is real cute and all,” Damien says, “but I don’t need a babysitter.” He goes to stand, but Dr. B’s got a hand on his shoulder, shoving him down into his chair before he can really get started on the attempt.

“Sit,” she commands. “According to Mark, you were extremely affected by his initial mimic of your power. Though the recent _self inflicted_ blow to the head seems to have knocked you out of it--”

“Aw, poor Dr. B missed out on wittle ole helpless Damien. Boo hoo.”

“--you still need to be monitored, both in case of further changes in your ability, and in case your condition worsens.”

“Condition?”

“Your _concussion_ ,” Bright says in exasperation. “Honestly, Damien, have you been paying _any_ attention?”

“Right,” he says, “and what exactly is it you’re planning to do if I _do_ get worse?”

“We’ll figure that out if and when it happens,” Bright says, because she’s always got all the answers.

“I’ll go call my mom to let her know where I’ll be,” Chloe says, flashing her cell at Dr. B. B gives her a nod of acknowledgement, waiting until she’s left to turn her attention back to Damien. 

He gives her a smirk. “Miss me?”

She narrows her eyes at him. “I’m going to get the full story of what happened out of Mark eventually,” she says, voice low. “And if I find out that you took advantage of him while the two of you were on the road, I will make you regret ever knowing my name.”

His lip curls up, transforming his smirk into a sneer. “Mark only got exactly what he wanted,” he says. He knows he’s provoking her, can see her hands clenched at her sides, knuckles turning white with the force of blows she won’t make, and maybe he’s got just a bit of that desire for punishment still running through his veins, because he does nothing to mitigate the shaking fury he’s incited in her. 

She wants to hit him. Oh, she wants to hit him _so bad_. 

_Do it_. The words sit on the tip of his tongue, begging to be said.

The front door opens, letting in a _whoosh_ of warm afternoon air.

“Okay,” Chloe says. “I’m good to go.” 

She blinks at the two of them, frowning as she looks at Bright. Bright turns her head, averting her gaze from Damien and Chloe both, and Damien feels a small thrill of victory in that. Enough that he stands, mostly steady, and goes to meet Chloe at the door without complaint.

“Well?” he says. “Are we going or what?”

She huffs out a breath and opens the door for him.


	3. I want you to stop pretending.

“I’m going to sleep,” Damien says the minute he’s through his apartment door.

Chloe does a double-take, shutting the door behind her. “Wh--you can’t sleep with a concussion!”

He gives her a condescending look. “I don’t have a concussion.”

“You do,” Choe says. “Probably,” she adds. “And besides, it’s only five o’clock.”

“Yeah, well, been on the road all day, totally exhausted, you know how it is.” He pauses at the entrance to the hallway, looking at her over his shoulder. “You can leave.”

“I’m not leaving,” Chloe says, marching over to plant herself in front of him. “And you’re not going to sleep.”

He gives her a flat stare.

“You can’t make me,” she reminds him, crossing her arms.

“More than one way to force a person’s hand,” Damien says.

She glares up at him. Then-- “Oh! Do you know how to play rummy?”

His eyebrows furrow. “What?”

“Rummy,” Chloe says, excited. “I used to play it with my mom all the time, but it’s been kind of impossible since, you know,” she twirls her hand next to her head, “mind-reading.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You want to play cards?”

She shrugs. “I mean, it doesn’t look like there’s much else to do around here.”

His eye twitches at that. “Sorry,” he grits out, “I’ve kind of been away for a while.”

“I can see that.”

“If you don’t like the accommodations--”

“I can leave, right, yeah yeah, not getting rid of me that easily. So. Do you have a deck of cards?”

He brushes past her, steps quick, sharp, as he crosses to the kitchen, rooting around through drawers. 

His place isn’t that bad, honestly. It smells pretty musty, there’s an empty glass sitting on a sidetable next to the couch that might just have had enough time to evaporate completely while he’s been gone, and the bookshelf is more suggestion of organization composed of haphazard piles than real order. Mostly, though, it just seems really unlived in.

_But I’m concerned about the prospect of leaving you alone_ , Dr. Bright had said, _{especially given this blatant demonstration of self-harm}_.

Is this what someone getting their affairs in order looks like? But, no, that’s not right, this is his apartment as it was when he left months ago. 

_He was in so much pain_ , Caleb had said. _{I thought I was going to die.}_

She stares at the back of his head as though the way his hair bounces with every movement might tell her something about what he’s thinking.

“Ha!” Damien turns to face her, look triumphant as he holds up a deck of cards.

She gives him something approaching a genuine smile in return.

“So,” Damien says, pulling the armchair closer to the couch and angling the coffee table between them. “What are the stakes?”

“Rummy isn’t a gambling game.”

He flashes her a smile that’s too much teeth. “Anything’s a gambling game if you play it right.”

She rolls her eyes. “Do you even know how to play Rummy?” she asks.

He shrugs. “How hard could it be?”

__________________________

“Bringing the total up to 1535 points Chloe, 615 points Damien,” Chloe finishes, shuffling her cards into a neat stack.

“This is bullshit,” Damien growls.

“You did pretty well for your first time.”

“ _Bullshit_.” He narrows his eyes at her. “You cheated.”

She scoffs. “I can’t, my ability doesn’t work on you, remember?”

“Not your ability,” Damien says, glaring at her.

“Then how?”

“ _You_ said that I should lay down any matches I had, but you kept all yours and laid them out at the end.”

“I didn’t say when you should lay down your matches. It’s a valid strategy!”

“It was implied.”

“You could have started doing it too after the first round!” 

“I _did_! And you said they didn’t count! That they were negative points!”

“Because I went out first! Any cards left in the other players’ hands when you go out count against their total.”

His lips press into a thin line. “Why are you even still here?”

She glances at the clock. “Oh! It’s later than I thought. Uhm.” Chloe has no idea how long you’re supposed to keep someone awake after a concussion. Is three hours enough? “You can probably go to sleep now,” she says, uncertain. 

He levels a stare at her. “You don’t know anything about concussions, do you.”

“More than you, at least.”

“Right. Of course. How dare I question your guidance.”

“I’m trying to _help_ you.”

“I didn’t ask for your help, sweetheart.”

“That doesn’t change that you _need it_. You slammed your head against the ground, Damien. Hard enough to black out! That’s not a normal thing!”

“It doesn’t take a lot of force to the temple to make the brain hit the inside of the skull. That’s why fighters aim there for a knockout punch.”

She gapes at him. “You--were you _trying_ to knock yourself out?”

He shrugs.

_Shit_ , Mark had said. _{Is this me?} Fuck. {I’m not trying to hurt him, I don’t want to hurt him, but she saw, she **knows** \--}_

“What happened between you and Mark?”

He bristles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, whatever happened in Dr. Bright’s office, I’m worried it’s going to happen again.”

“It’s not.”

“Are you sure? I’m not just here because of the concussion, you know. Dr. Bright--”

“It’s not,” he snarls, shooting to his feet. “It was only because Sam was there. Mark didn’t want her to know that--” He bites off his words, teeth clicking together.

_Know what_? she wants to ask, but doesn’t.

His lip curls. “Mark’s not the golden boy everyone thinks he is,” he taunts. “Didn’t anyone tell you what he can do?”

“You’re not going to drive me away. I made a promise to Dr. Bright, and I’m not leaving.” She stares up at him, defiant, hands balled into fists. 

His eyes narrow. “Fine. Suit yourself. I’m going to bed.”

He stalks to the hallway, disappearing down its length, and Chloe lets out the breath she’d been holding. She’s startled when, a moment later, she’s pelted by something soft and loose, turning just in time to see Damien retreating back down the hall, having apparently hurled a blanket at the back of her head. 

She glances at the clock. Just a quarter past eight.

This is going to be a long night.


	4. I want my ability.

It’s not that Damien doesn’t see that Chloe’s still there, perched on the edge of the couch, doing _something_ with a small mountain of sweet and sour sauce packets and the everyday china. It’s just that he doesn’t care.

(He feels that buzz though, the one that says she’s so far past tired, wanting sleep is no longer a straightforward and simple thing.)

He passes her by, heading straight for the kitchen, only to find that the coffee pot is already on and brewing. He gives it a sniff, grimaces, and pours it out in the sink. “Who taught you how to make coffee?”

“You didn’t have any tea,” Chloe says, like that’s some kind of answer. She doesn’t look up from piping a thin line of orange-ish gel onto the outside of an upturned salad bowl. 

He opens the top. “You didn’t use a filter,” he says, disbelieving. 

She makes a sort of sucking sound against her teeth. “Is that why it’s gritty?”

No. _No_. Damien _refuses_ to deal with this level of ridiculous without some coffee. And considering that she seems to have put the grounds _in the water carafe_ as well, it’s going to take an unacceptably long time to make himself some.

Fine. There’s a diner in walking distance, and it’s been a while since he had food up to an actual table. He checks himself in the mirror next to front door, grabs his jacket, and heads out the door.

“Hey!”

Chloe catches up to him a couple minutes later, jogging in thin thin sandals not meant for jogging in, leather soles slapping painfully harsh against the sidewalk.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asks, out of breath as she comes alongside him. 

His eyes slide her way, then forward again. “Breakfast.”

“I guess you _would_ have to go out for it. Do you know there’s nothing in your cabinets to cook with?”

Damien doesn’t say anything.

“Seriously, I went through every drawer, and you have five million pots and _no food_. It’s a miracle I found the sauce packets.”

“What were you doing with those?” he asks, unable to help himself.

He can almost feel her beaming. “Art. Well, sort of. There’s not a lot to do at your place? You don’t have cable, and I didn’t know the wifi password, and the books on the shelf looks a little...dense. So I decided to get creative.”

Of course he doesn’t have cable, he doesn’t bother explaining. Hard to pay a monthly bill when your existence as a legal entity dried up at thirteen. 

He grunts instead, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his leather jacket. “Glad to know your moral code makes exceptions for theft when _art_ is involved.”

“I didn’t steal anything,” she splutters. “Your dishes are still right there on the coffee table.”

“And the sauce packets?”

She gapes at him. “Seriously? They’re _sauce packets_. I can go grab you another handful from the nearest Chinese food place for _free_. 

“Then you could have gotten your own and not stolen mine.” He abruptly changes directions, shouldering open the glass door they’ve reached, leaving Chloe to backtrack once she realizes she’s passed him. 

“I’ll be with you in a moment!” Damien gives a casual wave to the hostess, not bothering to look in her direction as he makes his way to his normal booth. His mouth twists in distaste when he realizes someone is already sitting there. His head is already aching; he doesn’t want to deal with this. He looms over them, waiting for them to look up. It doesn’t take long.

“Can I help you?” The guy’s in his sixties, on the later end if Damien had to guess, and clearly needs glasses if his squint is anything to go by. The lady sitting across from him is either his daughter or a second rate gold digger well past her prime. 

“Yeah,” Damien drawls, the entryway chiming somewhere behind him as Chloe enters. “You can fuck off.” His head throbs in time with his words. 

The man’s eyes bulge. “What did you say?”

“I said,” Damien says, smiling, leaning into his space, “Fuck. Off.” Damien’s tempted to just haul the guy out of his seat if he doesn’t move soon. His headache is getting real obnoxious _real_ fast. 

The man gets up, and Damien breathes a sigh of relief that he won’t have to exert any more effort. “Now was that--”

For the second time in as many days, Damien gets punched in the face.

“Damien!” Chloe’s voice has an odd echoing quality. He ignores her, pushing off from the tabletop he’d braced himself against to face the old guy. “Oh, _now_ you’re in for it,” he snarls, reaching out with his ability and--

At first, it feels like he’s been punched again, only so much worse. Then he feels his stomach revolting and drops to his knees, retching, the force of it blinding him with pain. 

It becomes very clear that Damien can no longer exercise his power without some level of pain. Chloe ends up just paying for the breakfast.

They talk a little. Damien’s freaking out about maybe not being able to use his ability. Chloe points out that he still has _an_ ability, he just can’t make people do what he wants anymore. He’s very dismissive of that, and she’s of course like, well you’re just going to have to live life like the rest of us now. 

Being in the public space without a lot of sleep is really getting to Chloe. Asking if they can get out of there makes Damien feel enough like he’s in control to say yes, though he quickly bores of how quiet and unentertaining walking with Chloe is. He complains about this, she asks him what he does all day anyway, he says something about following people, which she says is creepy, he says fine, we’ll go to the mall then, she says she can’t go to the mall, not like this, and he says he didn’t ask her to come anyway. 

She unleashes her anger about how she’s trying to help him and he doesn’t _have_ to push everyone away, is he even going to talk about what Mark said?

Damien shoves at her to leave, forgetting he can’t actually influence her, and nearly incapacitates himself with the pain.

Chloe gets him back to his house. Gets him to his bed? Whatever else happens, she ends up falling asleep on the couch without meaning to.

__________________________

Chloe wakes up to Damien bringing lunch home for both of them. When Chloe asks how he managed it, he “brags” that he stole money from a cashier, emptied out their entire register. Figures he’s gotta work smarter not harder now, right?

Chloe is disgusted by this take on his new circumstances, declares that he seems to be doing just fine for himself, and leaves.

But Damien notices finally that she left her cell number taped to his fridge, just in case.


	5. I want my life back.

Damien calls Bright looking for her to prescribe him painkillers. “Aspirin’s not cutting it.” He leans heavily on blaming her brother to try to elicit guilt from her.

She agrees to an appointment with vaguely worded she'll try to help him, though no one except Damien could possibly take it as a promise for painkillers.

At the appointment, Bright does an assessment of Damien’s ability and pain levels. She eventually prescribes him a very short regimen of Vicodin, cautioning that she doesn't think it will actually work, and to be wary of side effects. She also tries to lead him to the idea that he might have to rely on his ability less. Finally, she tries to fish if he needs to talk about that last week with Mark, when their roles were reversed, but Damien immediately ends the appointment.

The vicodin doesn't work, and makes him violently nauseous besides. He's running out of money faster than he thought possible, and it turns out when you empty a whole register, they remember you and come for you at the door. Not a trick you can pull twice.

He ends up calling Chloe, because her number is there, and mostly just bothering and needling at her, but also fishing for like. How does he use feeling people's wants to get money out of them, instead of just making them want to give him money. Chloe gets frustrated that all he thinks about is himself and suggests actually helping people get what they want. He laughs in her face, saying people want some real fucked up shit. But it gives him an idea. A very terrible idea.

Damien goes to a playground at a park he’s been to before (he’s familiar with just about every public space in the city, since he’s a people watcher). He stalks around ominously until he finds what he’s looking for and follows the guy.

Damien, being Damien, follows the guy all the way home, knocks on his door, and then pushes his way in and tells the guys that he knows he’s a pedophile, and if he doesn’t want Damien telling anyone, he’s going to need to pay to keep Damien quiet. The guy vehemently denies it, threatens to call the cops, which Damien scoffs at. Then he completely calls Damien’s bluff on the big bad sinister routine by grabbing something heavy and hitting Damien with it, then kicking at him once he’s on the ground. Damien gets enough focus to make the guy hit himself instead, then gets out of there.

Damien stumbles down the street with a bloody lip, bruised ribs, and what promises to be an excruciating migraine. He tries to dial Dr. Bright, but accidentally gets Chloe instead. Chloe vacillates between thinking Damien is drunk or messing with her, and being worried that he’s in trouble. She eventually gets out of Damien where he is and that he’s injured and drives to go get him.

Damien is dazed when Chloe and Vanessa find him, having half forgotten the call. Both worried about him, Chloe hesitantly suggests that maybe they should take him to the AM, to which both Damien and Vanessa vehemently say No. They end up taking Damien back to their house.

Frank doesn’t like the feel of Damien at all, but he does some basic first aid, confirms that Damien’s ribs are bruised, not cracked, that he might have another concussion, and that there’s not much they can do but observe him and hope he doesn’t get worse. Chloe decides to take Damien back to his place and stay there with him, which Vanessa and Frank both object to. Chloe points out that she’s the only one who can’t be influenced by him, and Vanessa says it doesn’t look like he’ll be influencing anyone just now. Frank finally concedes that he’ll stay at his place with the VA if Chloe will keep Damien where Vanessa can also keep an eye on him. Chloe reluctantly agrees. 

Damien floats between acerbic and kind of out of it and unfocused, but has no manners regardless. Choe ends up having a conversation with her mom about it, how it’s so frustrating to know someone so completely irredeemable. Vanessa asks if she’s read The Miracle Worker in school yet, to which Chloe replies that she hasn’t. Vanessa digs out a copy from their home library and gives it to Chloe, telling her to give it a read-- _after_ she gets some sleep. “You haven’t been sleeping enough baby.” Vanessa will watch Damien tonight. 

Chloe tries to read the book first, but falls asleep. She forgets about it the next morning, joining Damien and her mom at breakfast. Damien is complaining nonstop about his ribs. Chloe wants to know what he thinks he was doing, anyway. He frames things as, I was hunting down a predator, that should make you happy. Chloe is absolutely furious. “You knew he was a pedophile and instead of doing something about it you were just going to _extort him_?” 

Hey, extorting is doing something. 

“No, Damien, that’s the _opposite_ of doing something. You were asking him to pay you money so you wouldn’t tell on him, for which there would have to be something to tell about. _You were selling out any kids he hurt for **cash**_.” 

Damien is uncomfortable, having not really thought things that far through. 

Chloe kicks him out, saying he seems well enough to look after himself, and encourages him to get a real job.

Chloe remembers the book in the now silent kitchen and begins reading it over breakfast. It becomes apparent to her pretty quickly that her mom was reminded by Damien of young Helen Keller, a wild thing without manners or humanity because no one had thought her capable of either. Chloe isn’t sure that the comparison is really fair though, after all, Damien is an adult man fully capable of connecting with the world around him. He just chooses not to.

She thinks of putting the matter out of her mind and calling Sam, but then thinks better of it, as Sam is trying to mend fences with Mark, which then makes her think again of that bruise, and Damien saying that Mark didn’t make him do anything. “I wanted it.” She thinks of what she felt from him the first time she met him, just an absolute wasteland, cold and sharp, and wonders if maybe he really is alone in the dark, because no one’s ever managed to reach out to him without him taking control. A wild thing who doesn’t know how to be wild anymore, but never learned how to be human.

She either sees her mom or calls her. Vanessa says something about knowing where Chloe’s going with this, that she has another project. Chloe protests that people aren’t projects. She’s just. Trying something. Before she gives up on him completely. Her mom cautions her to be careful, and asks that she let her and/or Frank know where she is at regular intervals. Damien might not be able to influence her, but he’s still capable of all the things any human is capable of. Chloe agrees. Then she hangs up and packs a bag.


	6. I want the pain to stop.

Chloe shows up at Damien’s house several hours later with enough clothes for a week and tells him they’re going grocery shopping. He’s his usual taciturn self, she points out that it’s a lot harder for him to get food these days than it used to be, and he agrees to go, sneering the whole time.

Chloe gets some basic groceries, but leans heavily toward foods that require little prep or have easy to follow directions. Damien has the nerve to make fun, asking if she can even cook, and she counters, can you? No? Then it’s a good thing I’m buying things you can heat in the microwave when I’m gone. Damien tries to get into another argument with her about how he doesn’t need help, and he’s a great cook thank you very much, which she mostly ignores. He angrily grabs some hard liquor and puts it in the basket, staring her down. She rolls her eyes and allows it, pretty sure she’s going to need a drink by the end of this.

Damien asserts again that he could “pay” for this stuff himself, and Chloe is basically like, sigh. Just let me pay for it. Consider it rent for the week. Which Damien super likes the idea of, and therefore allows. 

Damien starts drinking almost as soon as they get back to his place, while Chloe is putting stuff away. By the time she realizes he’s been sneaking drinks, he’s well and truly plastered. She tries to take the bottle from him, angry that he’s so obstinate about her trying to help him. He tries to push her, winces, and keeps trying to push her, only for the pain to keep backlashing on him. Frustrated, she tries to remind him that he can’t push her, and is more shocked than she’s ever been when he starts crying. He ends curled up, on the couch or on his bed, maybe even the floor, crying, because painkillers didn’t help, vicodin didn’t help, and the alcohol’s making things worse, because he can’t stop reaching out with his power even though he knows it won’t work, and it still _hurts_.

Chloe gets him upright, tries to let him cry things out. He says some truly awful things to her, but is also pretty wracked with pain and generally miserable, so she’s disinclined to leave him. She tries to get some water and food into him. He ends up saying some things he’ll definitely regret about Mark, both about how he misses him, how Mark broke him, and how he wishes he’d never met either of the fucking Bryants, ruined his fucking life. Eventually he drops off to sleep.

Chloe messages her mom. She realizes now that she has a much bigger task ahead of her than she thought, and she’s not really sure she can handle it. She’s especially worried that she can’t actually read Damien’s mind--what if she does something wrong? How’s she supposed to know? Her mom both points out that that feeling, relying on an ability other people don’t have, is what Damien is feeling right now--even if he’s an absolute bastard about it. And also, that Chloe was wonderful and bright and kind long before she was telepathic, and her mom knows that whatever happens, Chloe will have done everything she could have. Chloe goes to bed.


	7. I don't want your help.

The next day, Chloe calls Dr. Bright asking for advice on things to do with Frank to get him reintegrated into society. “I know that’s what the VA is for, but I just want t be there for him in this too, you know? I think we both feel better if this is something we can do together.” She takes notes, and formulates a few plans. 

Damien is already ready to murder Chloe when he wakes up, for seeing him like he was last night, for interfering with his life, and for just existing when he’s so miserable. But she has toast and coffee for him, doesn’t bring up the night before, and says she has something that might help with the pain.

He is not happy to learn that this “help” is meditation. 

He tries somewhat to follow her directions, and feels a little better, which he covers up by complaining that he can’t really know if it worked since there’s no one here to practice his ability on. Chloe says she wasn’t planning to have their outing until tomorrow, but they can go today if he wants. Damien warily asks her where, and she happily tells him, an art museum.

__________________________

Cut to art museum.

Damien wants to know why the fuck they’re at an art museum. Chloe says because she can’t really handle a mall, libraries are surprisingly loud, movie theaters are bad ideas, and Damien should probably stay away from parks for now, bad habits and all. Damien wants to know why they’d go to any of those places, Chloe explains that those are things Dr. Bright suggested, no not for you, for Frank, I didn’t want to tell her it was for you, I had a feeling she’d think this was a bad idea. 

Damien: And you don’t? 

Chloe: I’m reserving judgement. 

They wander around, with Chloe sometimes talking about the art, sometimes asking Damien to feel around and see what people want. At some point they come across someone who doesn’t want to be at the museum, Chloe has to painstakingly try to describe to Damien why someone would do something that they don’t want to do. During which she comes to the somewhat horrifying realization that Damien doesn’t totally grasp why people don’t like him, or the things he does upset people, in large part because he never _sees_ the negative effects. So long as the people are around him, they’re pleasant, complacent, nice to him, and have no complaints. Then they leave, and get pissed at him. To him, people are weird hate machines that act mostly to spite him, instead of for sensible reasons. 

Chloe becomes a little more certain that she’s right to at least try helping Damien, and significantly less certain that she actually can. 

Eventually Chloe agrees that Damien should try his power to see if the meditation exercises help mitigate the pain. He makes someone pick up trash, or some other thing that Chloe thinks is nice and benign. It still hurts, but is less incapacitating than before. Also, Damien is getting a better feel for when he’s helping along something someone already wanted to do vs implanting a want out of nowhere.

They get back to Damien’s place. Chloe is a bit exhausted, and just wants to rest for a bit, maybe with some clay? A sketchbook? Not sure which. Damien wants to know why she’s doing this. After some thought, she says, “Because I don’t think anyone else has ever tried. And I think I might be the only person who could.”


	8. I want you to like me.

Skip forward to her having been there a few days, where she's been continuing to try to help, but is surprisingly conscious about wearing people out (because she experiences it too, dumbass.)

They've just gotten Damien an actual official ID (which he loathes, but Chloe wouldn't budge on), and Chloe says, okay. Now for the most important part. A job. 

Damien's like, I don't need a job. 

Chloe is like, yes you do, you can't get by on people just doing what you want anymore, and you shouldn't besides. Buuut even I know you're never going to hold down a real job (I could if I wanted to, I just don't want to), so, I've come up with a solution. Her mouth twists in distaste. Poker. 

Poker? 

Poker, she affirms. 

He grins. You want me to cheat. 

She groans. I don't _want_ you to cheat, but I think it's the best we're going to do in finding you a steady way to make money. At least the people playing go into it knowing they might lose. 

Normalize however you want honey, it's still cheating. 

Shut up and get over here, your grasp of the rules is abysmal.

__________________________

Jump next to after the card room, them walking to the car, kind of laughing, having fun. Chloe poking fun at how Damien kept forgetting the rules, Damien at how Chloe managed to lose money when she could read minds. “It was his last paycheck!” she protested. “He really couldn’t afford to lose it.” 

“Well, he shouldn’t have been there then,” Damien said. 

“Ugh, of course you’d still take his money.” 

“Better them than some guy off the street. Isn’t that the point in this?” 

“Maybe I’m just worried you’d starve without me.” 

“I was getting along just fine before you came into my life sweetheart.” 

“Were you though?” Chloe asks, teasing.

And Damien leans in, and kisses her. 

Chloe freezes, for one second, and then pushes him away.

“I,” she says, eyes wide. “This--I’m not--I don’t--

Damien’s looking at her, nearly as panicked, then grabs his head, hissing in pain. Chloe pulls further away, and he looks up, says, “Wait, don’t go. I won’t do it again. Don’t go.” His eyes are watering with pain, and she knows with a cold certainty that if it weren’t for her ability, she wouldn’t have any choice in the matter.

She runs. 

Her mom picks her up from a starbucks twenty minutes later. Her lips are pressed together, white and thin. Chloe tells her she’s okay as she gets in, and her mom doesn’t say anything the whole ride, though Chloe can hear her thoughts clamoring. She presses her forehead to the glass and closes her eyes.


	9. I want to fix things.

Damien calls Dr. Bright. The phone has barely clicked over when he says “I fucked up.” There's a pause, then “Damien?” It's Mark. Damien hangs up.

His phone rings again. Caller ID says Dr. B. After a moment, Damien answers.

“What does that mean?” It's still Mark.

“What?”

“You said you fucked up,” Mark says, patient. “What does that mean?”

Damien bites his lip. 

“Damien? Come on, you called for a reason.

“Why did you do it?”

“Why did I do what?”

Damien hangs up. His phone rings again. He puts it on silent. But he can't stop staring at it, waiting to see if a different number calls.

She doesn't. 

__________________________

Chloe waits until the next morning to call Dr. Bright. “Damien tried to kiss me,” she says. “Well, I mean, he didn't try, he did--I mean, he tried, and then he did, and I pushed him away, and that wouldn't be so terrible usually, just, really awkward, but it's _Damien_ , and I never really know what he's capable of, and he wanted me to stay, but I ran, and I think I might be a little in over my head.”

There's a pause. Then Joan says, “Well, that explains it. Damien called Mark last night, though I suppose we can now safely assume he was trying to get in touch with me.”

Chloe clutches the phone. “What did he say?”

“Most of that is covered under doctor-patient confidentiality, though I feel it will only help matters if I tell you that he's sorry.”

“He said that?”

“His exact words were, ‘I fucked up,’ which is as close as I've ever heard him come.”

Chloe feels like she should laugh at that, but she can’t quite manage it.

Dr.Bright sighs. “So, this is what you’ve been up to. All the exercises for Frank you asked my advice on?”

“I passed them on to Frank,” Chloe says. “But, yeah. I’ve been staying with Damien.”

They have a conversation that basically comes down to, why have you been doing this and what do you want out of it. And Chloe being like, he’s just, really, really alone. Joan saying she shouldn’t feel obligated, Chloe saying it’s not like that. 

“I just.” She’s quiet for a moment. “I don’t think I’d really be me if I didn’t at least try.” 

So, now that you’ve tried? 

Chloe doesn’t know. He’s not so bad, honestly. He just, doesn’t see the people around him. It’s scary, and kind of sad. She wants to keep helping him, not because she has to, but because, there’s a person in there somewhere, and she wants him not to hurt. 

Bright cautions her against getting too attached or compromising her own well-being, but that if Chloe’s concerns right now are ones of boundaries, then, that’s what needs to be addressed. Boundaries. But, please, for all our sakes, keep me apprised? And don’t let him drink. 

Chloe takes more time to think about it. That night, she gets a text from Damien. “Please call me.” That’s all.

She shows up at his place, because things always feel so much more real in person, even if she knows her power doesn’t work on him. He’s slow to answer the door, and kind of a wreck when he does. He shuts the door on her, then opens it a second later. “Shit. I don’t know why I did that.” Chloe laughs.

Then she sobers. “What happened the other night?”

“It won’t happen again,” he promises.

“That’s not what I asked. What happened? Why?”

He looks uncomfortable, shifty. “That’s what happens, isn’t it? Two people like each other, they go from talking to kissing to in bed together.”

Chloe flushes. Her turn to be uncomfortable. “Is that what you wanted?”

“It happened, didn’t it?”

“But is that what you _wanted_ ,” Chloe pushes. “Is that what you want? For us to be, that?”

He swallows. Looks at her. “I want us to be something.”

Her heart’s hammering. She wants to bolt. “Why?”

“Because…you’re…” he’s tense, a bowstring pulled taught, but the arrow won’t fly.

Chloe’s beginning to suspect something. “Do you want to end up in bed?” she asks. “Or do you just want me to be here?”

He flinches, pulls back through the door. ( _Please don’t leave_. But Mark left anyway. Everyone does, eventually.)

“Damien?” she takes a step forward, concerned, but not quite crossing the threshold. 

“I don’t want to end up in bed,” he says, not looking at her. “It’s not even that great.”

 _I wanted it_. Chloe closes her eyes, breathes, opens them. “How about I tell you what I want, then.” She takes his silence as affirmation. “I want to be the kind of person who gives everyone a chance. I want to be a bridge to people who are stuck on the wrong side of a ravine and don’t know how to get across. I want to prove that I can do this, that I can still just _be a person_ , without relying on my power to tell me what to say.” He’s staring at her, shoulders hunched. 

“I want you to be the person you are because you chose it, and not because you don’t know how to be anyone else.” She takes a step in. “I want you not to hurt, because no one deserves to hurt that much.” Another step. “I want you to learn how to care about anyone except yourself.” She stops in front of him. “I don’t want to be afraid of you.”

Damien, tense, still. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“If you had had your power, how would that night have gone?”

“My power doesn’t--”

“Damien.” Her voice is sharp, even more so this close. 

“I wanted you to like me,” he says, quiet.

“And?”

He shrugs.

“And what else?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Nothing else.” He hunches even more into himself. “Fuck,” he says. “ _Fuck_. I went and fucking ruined it, _again_.”

Chloe leans down and, awkward as a teenage boy, wraps an arm around him in half a hug. He stiffens, shocked and wary.

“This is a really bad idea,” she says. “But I think I want to be your friend.”


	10. I want to get better.

Cut to Damien and Chloe. Maybe at Chloe’s house. More likely at Damien’s; he's actually making dinner with fancy ingredients (told you I can cook). 

“You can invite him,” Damien’s saying.

They’re having a conversation about how Chloe was trying to plan something and bemoaning that she can invite Damien and maybe Rose, or she can invite Joan Mark Sam Frank Caleb Adam...and Damien’s like, it's fine. Invite Mark and Sam, I'll be cool. And Chloe is basically like, I'm not going to invite Mark until you guys have worked out your thing together. Damien insists there is no thing. 

Chloe says a mutual kidnapping definitely counts as a thing. Damien says he didn't mean to kidnap Mark, Chloe calls bullshit. They have an actual mostly honest conversation about Damien’s motivations, what he was trying to do, where he went wrong. 

Chloe concludes that she's not inviting Mark to anything Damien goes to. But maybe he should come by the art studio with Frank and Caleb and Adam. Assuming he can behave himself.

__________________________

Damien at the art studio with Caleb and Adam. It’s weird, because he knows Caleb is so easy to influence he could definitely do it without problem, but he also knows Chloe would be disappointed in him, and it’s really important that Chloe not be disappointed in him. (Everyone leaves, everyone changes their mind--but she’s known who he really is from the beginning, and she hasn’t left yet.)

Caleb is super skittish around him, Adam glares knives at him the whole time, and Frank keeps not so subtly putting himself physically between Chloe and Damien. Damien snarks at Adam that he’s not here to put the moves on his boyfriend, Adam does a full bristle at Damien, and probably insults his intelligence/art knowledge. Damien makes some insightful comments about color theory or something, while still being a huge dick about it. Chloe calls out to them to behave, and Damien kind of sulks but backs down. 

Adam goes to Chloe like, why is he even here. And Chloe is like, it’s art therapy, he needs therapy. Adam looks back at Damien, who has already managed to drift over to Caleb, criticizing his painting and reaching over his shoulder to point out specific failures. _I want him to like me_. Adam thinks Damien might be even more lonely and pathetic than him.

__________________________

Damien stares at his phone. Thinks about calling. Decides not to. Thinks about calling again. _Guess who just won big. Yeah, not to brag or anything, but just came away with two grand. Want to celebrate?_

But what if she said no?

That was the question, wasn’t it. What if she said no. When was the last time Damien had been in a position where someone could say no to him? 

Correction: where someone could say no to him about something he actually gave a shit about. _I really hate to do this, but you kidnapped me first_.

He picks up the phone and dials. 

Dr. B picks up.

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but it’s three am.”

“Put Mark on.”

“Excuse me?”

“Please.”

A bed creaking. “Is something wrong?”

“This was a bad idea,” Damien says, but he doesn’t hang up. “Look, Mark and I need to talk, right? That’s what everyone’s been saying. Well, I don’t have his number, and I’m not going to show up where he can do his thing again, so put him on.”

A sigh. “Hold on.” Sound gets muffled, though he can tell she’s moving somewhere. He thinks she might have put the phone against her chest, because he swears he can hear her heart, steady as a drum.

Distant voices, then, “Damien?”

His mouth goes dry.

A sigh, near identical to Dr. B’s, but in a lower register. “Are you going to actually say something this time, or just hang up?”

“What did you want?” Damien asks. “When I gave you that bruise, what did you want?”

Mark sucks in a breath.

“Are you going to actually say something, or just hang up.” Damien’s tone is softly mocking in the face of Mark’s silence.

“I’m sorry,” Mark says.

“Not an answer.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Since when do you care what I want?”

“I care,” Mark says. He sounds upset. Good. “I cared. Maybe that’s why I did it.”

Damien barks a laugh. “And I thought I was fucked up. Oh wait, I am! Thanks for that, by the way.” There’s a viciousness to him he wasn’t expecting, to sink barbs into Mark and pull.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“No,” Damien snarls, “You just wanted me to hurt you. Do you know what that’s like, Mark? Do you? To feel someone latch on to the worst parts of yourself and fan the flames? For someone you thought, I don’t know, you could maybe be friends with! Who might _actually_ understand you! to think you’re such a fucking monster that hurting them will make you feel better? That that’s what you _want_?”

“You did,” Mark says, defensive. “I pointed you in a direction, but you ran to the finish line on your own.”

“ _Fuck you_ ,” Damien growls. He hangs up, and throws his phone across the room. 

Then he crosses the room and picks it up, because he can’t stand to be alone. He’s got plenty of people in his phonebook, but there’s only two people in his call history, three if you count Dr. B’s office and cell as separate, and he doesn’t want to see Chloe tonight. Not anymore.

Hesitantly, he dials one of the more recent additions. “Hey, Grant, it’s Damien. Yeah, from the Spotlight. Listen, I--” _Just came into some money. Just won a big pot. Just got a shitload of cash, and I don’t have anyone to celebrate with except the girl who’s mother henning me, the guy I kidnapped and kidnapped me back, and the cliche sunglasses fedora guy who sits at my left elbow in a no-smoking card room that still manages to smell like an ashtray. The last one’s you, by the way_.

“I’m a little low on cash,” Damien says. “You know who I should go to for a loan?”

Nothing like asking for money to get people to run.

__________________________

“So how does real therapy work?” Damien asks, working not to scratch at his forearm.

Frank looks him up and down. “Aren’t you a patient of Dr. Bright’s?”

“Conflict of interest,” Damien says, “She finds me irresistable. So. Real therapy?”

“Why?”

“Because there’s a hole in my schedule and shrinks are just so warm and cuddly. Why do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Frank says. “You don’t seem like the type to seek it out, if you don’t mind my saying.”

Damien grits his teeth. “Great, fine, wonderful talking to you.”

“Is it because of Chloe?”

“Chloe hasn’t done anything.”

“I didn’t say she had,” Frank says. He gives Damien another appraising look. “I assume you’re interested in the objectivity of traditional therapists?”

“Dr. B isn’t exactly a shining beacon of staying out of her patients' lives.”

Frank nods, and pulls out a memo pad with half a pencil shoved in the spiral out of his back pocket, scribbling something down.

“This group meets Tuesdays and Thursdays at the loaves and fishes on 5th St. No appointment. Just show up and talk about what you need to.”

“I’m not looking for group therapy,” Damien says, eyeing the proffered slip of paper with distrust. 

“There’s anonymity in numbers,” Frank says. “People come, people leave. No one asks questions. Give it a try.”

Reluctantly, Damien reaches out and takes the note.

__________________________

Damien fucking hates group therapy.

Mostly, he hates when someone says something and he thinks, _yeah, I get that_ , because these people are so much more pathetic than him.

It’s three sessions before the group lead asks if he’d like to share anything, and he spits out that he doesn’t really need to be here.

“Then why did you come?” 

Damien wishes he’d expended the energy to make the guy not want to notice him.

“You don’t have to share,” the man says. “You’re welcome here regardless. But I don’t think you’ll get what you want out of these meetings if all you do is listen and judge.”

Damien scowls at him. “I fucked a guy,” he says, leaning forward, staring the group lead down. “In _every_ possible sense of the word. Hurt him, left bruises on his skin. Made him _scream_. Made him fucking beg for it. He couldn’t even walk straight the next day. Couldn’t even look at me. I fucking _ruined_ him.”

The group lead’s still looking at him, gaze steady. “Did he want you to?”

Damien snorts. “Oh, yeah, he wanted it alright.”

“Did you?”

Damien drops his gaze. The silence stretches. A chair creaks as someone shifts.

“No,” he admits, voice quiet.

“Did he know that?”

Damien shakes his head. “No. He thought it was what I wanted.”

“Why did he think that?”

“Everyone thinks I want to hurt them.”

“Do you?”

“No.”

“Why do they think that?”

“Because I’m a fucking monster.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I am!” Damien bursts out. “I am, I just--I want things, and I always get what I want.”

The group lead nods. Terry? Terry, Damien thinks. “That can take a toll,” Terry says.

“You have no fucking idea,” Damien says.

But the funny thing is. He feels like, maybe someone here does.


	11. I want to try.

Chloe knows something is up. For one, they’re meeting at a restaurant, and Damien thinks restaurants are pretentious and stupid, for all the smug pride he takes in being a fancy chef. For two, Damien’s been looking at the wine menu instead of her for the past ten minutes.

“Do you even know anything about wine?” she says eventually.

“More than you,” Damien says, not looking up from the menu.

“You don’t know, I could know a lot about wine.”

“Still more than you.”

She sighs. “Why are we here, Damien?”

“I told you,” he says. “I won a tournament--”

“Over at the Dolphin Club,” she says, putting a hand on top of his menu and pushing it flat to the table. “You said. But why are we _here_.”

He looks around. “Because it’s fancy?”

She rubs at her temples. “You think food is just fuel, and that fancy food is a way to bullshit people into paying more for less.”

“Yeah, but yelp said this was one of the best piles of bullshit in a ten-mile radius of your house.”

“It’s practically empty,” she says. “I don’t see a single table with actual people at it except us.”

He doesn’t say anything, studiously looking at the wine list on the table.

“Damien? Did you...did you buy out the whole restaurant?”

“Just this room,” he admits.

“ _Why_ did you do that?”

“Because restaurants are loud.”

She thinks that over. Chain places, sure, but fancy candlelit places with tucked away alcoves and a hushed atmosphere? Those weren’t loud. Not physically, at least.

Her heartbeat picks up. She stares at him.

There’s a back and forth of Chloe being nervous that Damien is coming onto her again, and Damien just helplessly fumbling at like, is this good? Is this what friends do? And possibly at some point actually says in frustration, I’m trying to, be nice. Likable. Without cheating. And Chloe like, super touched that he’s made this effort, and kind of amused and sad that he still doesn’t seem to think it will work. “You don’t have to do all this just to make people like you.” 

Then what. What am I supposed to be doing. 

Chloe tries to explain basic friendship concepts, shared interests, mutual understanding, desire to know a person and be around them. 

Damien says something like, and that’s what I should be doing with you. 

And Chloe’s like, if you want. But we’re already friends. 

We are? 

Yeah Damien, what did you think this was? 

Miss do-gooder taking on another project. 

“Well,” she admits, “Maybe. At first. But I really did mean it, when I said I wanted to be your friend.” 

And we are now? 

“I think so.” Damien mulls it over. 

“Good,” he says. “Now, which bullshit should I order? I have no idea how to pronounce any of this.”

__________________________

Caleb gets a text the next day from an unknown number asking him what he likes. Which is really creepy. Creepier, when they send another text asking for specifics. [Football? Movies? The so-called classics? I know your boyfriend likes those.]

[Who is this?]

[Damien.]

Caleb freaks out. Calls Adam. “Why is Damien texting me?” I don’t know, Adam says. Have you asked Chloe?

Chloe laughs, then apologizes. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I’m sorry. It’s just, when I told him friends shared mutual interests, I didn’t think he’d go and do _this_.” She chuckles again.

“He wants to be friends? He’s like, a decade older than me.”

“With the maturity of a thirteen-year-old. But, no, you’re right. I’ll tell him to stop bothering you.”

“No, wait,” Caleb says. _I want him to like me_. “It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Caleb says. “I got this.”

[you play any games?]

__________________________

Damien offered to pay for Caleb’s xbox live account, which was, again, pretty weird, especially since Caleb already _had_ a live account. Also, Caleb is pretty sure Damien’s never played a video game in his life.

“Fuckin’--shitdamn, fuck, motherfuck--”

“You need help there?”

“This piece of shit is impossible to drive.”

“It’s a banshee. There’s like, two buttons to control it.”

“That’s two too many. Oh, fucking--what is this glowing fucking bullshit? Where did that motherfucker come from?”

Caleb’s glad he decided to start Damien on one of the earlier games, with hardly anyone left in the server. He just wishes he could screencapture the whole thing and throw it up on youtube for the world to enjoy. Damien would kill him though. Only maybe figuratively. 

He’ll only share it with Adam, then. And his sister. And Chloe. 

“You shit-eating cumstain, fucking crotch-licking dick-grabbing fuckstick, I will fucking ruin you--”

...maybe just Adam.

__________________________

“All anyone wants to do here is seem ‘cultured,’” Damien complains.

“Including you?” Chloe asks.

“I don’t seem, I _am_.”

“Including you,” Chloe confirms.

They’re at an art exhibition with a gallery just for students from Chloe’s college. Technically she doesn’t have any pieces in the show, because she missed so much class, but she thought it would be good to come out and support people anyway. 

Unfortunately, she can hear the thoughts of the people she recognizes, and they’re not good. While most of them are well-meaning, it’s still really disheartening to have people thinking things about how she’s not going to make it, or jealousy that she’s more “tortured” than they are. The less well-meaning ones think she’s faking for attention. Or are afraid of her.

Damien knows something is wrong, but doesn’t have enough tact to do anything but ask about it bluntly. Chloe eventually confesses that she’s having a hard time dealing with people’s thoughts, no, not about the art, about her. Damien immediately wants to fuck people up. “Why are you always so sweet in the most disturbing way possible?” 

I’m not sweet, Damien says. 

“Of course that’s your objection,” she sighs. 

She sort of painstakingly defends the people she’d rather not right now, saying things about how they don’t understand, you can’t hurt people just because they’re ignorant, you should help them instead of be angry at them. 

Damien trots out something from group? About, fuck that. You get to be angry when people do shitty things. Okay, yeah, maybe don’t go out and punch them, but talk shit about them, at least. 

Well, Chloe says. 

Well? Damien says. 

“Teddy is really bad at textured painting,” she says, voice hushed. “He layers the paint wrong, and it mixes instead of laying on top. Don’t try to tell us you were going for a washed out dustbowl depression-era feel just because everything came out a muddy brown.” She looks mildly scandalized by her own words. Damien is proud. 

“See?” he says. “You’re better than them. Fuck ‘em.”

__________________________

[where do i get a violin]

Adam stares at his phone. He has a feeling he knows who this is, but

[who is this?]

[Damien.]

Bingo.

[I don’t know] Adam texts. But he’s already pulling up a search in another window. [looks like there’s a decent music store on Norris and Elm]

[thanks]

[dare I ask why you want a violin?]

[bored]

Yeah. Makes about as much sense as anything Damien does.

__________________________

He’s not allowed to stalk people anymore. Or, well. It’s a lot less fun when he keeps getting caught. Notice-me-nots aren’t worth the headache, and turns out, Damien’s not nearly as stealthy as he thought.

He can only play so much poker (and can’t win too much, or people will think he’s cheating--which, he is, just not in a way he can get caught), Caleb has school, and he can’t hang out with Chloe all the time (at the very least, she’d get sick of him). 

It’s probably bad that both his ‘friends’ are at least five years younger than him. One, fine. Two? Might belong on dateline.

The other option is the loaves and fishes, which, he doesn’t need, and he’s _not_ going to volunteer at. But he’s seen people set up and play guitar before. So. What the hell.

He doesn’t bother asking anyone permission. What, like they’re going to kick him out? No one really pays him mind, at first. Whatever, he’s rusty. (The violin saws off-key. Okay, _really_ rusty. Like they can tell the difference.) But slowly, the wants in the room shift, shuffle their way in his direction, warm pinpricks of, _keep playing_ , or, _I wish I_ , and one, _could you play?_

Damien indulges the last, feels the want go shivery-pleased and delicate like a soap-bubble. When he finishes, he looks up.

At least a dozen people are staring at him, hunched over bowls of chowder. 

A dozen more on top of that buzz against his mind, wanting him to keep playing even as they shovel food in their mouths. 

Wanting him.

He places his chin on the rest, and resumes playing.


	12. I want you to know.

“So,” Chloe says. Damien looks up from pelting peanuts at squirrels at just slow enough intervals that they fight over them. “So?”

“So there’s a party,” Chloe says. “On Halloween. At Sam and Mark’s.”

He turns back to the squirrels. The braver ones are starting to dart up towards them. “Okay.”

“I asked Sam if I could invite you.”

He stills. “Why.”

She hesitates for a moment. “I guess...because you’re my friend. And when I realized you wouldn’t be there, I was disappointed.” She nudges his shoulder. “Besides, it’s nice to watch movies with you.”

A flush of warmth settling in his chest. “What’d she say?”

“Well. She didn’t _technically_ say no.”

Damien barks a laugh, flashing teeth just a bit too sharply. “Well, isn’t that fun.”

“So I figured we could just show up together.”

He sobers. “Wait, what?”

“Well, if we drive there together, then they know that you leaving means me leaving and--”

He holds up his hand. “Since when are you the troublemaker?”

She blows out a breath. “I’m not trying to make trouble.”

“Right.”

“I’m not!”

“Uh-huh.”

“I thought you’d be onboard with this.”

“Oh, I am,” Damien says, already gloating over the way Sam’s lip will curl in disgust when she sees him on her doorstep. “I’m just making sure that you’re crystal clear this puts you firmly on my side of the moral ambiguity spectrum.”

“It’ll be fine,” Chloe says, more to herself than him.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Damien says, upending the entire bag of nuts and watching the squirrels lose their goddamn minds. 

__________________________

Sam is indeed put off by Damien attending, but doesn’t say anything directly and tries to make nice with him. For Chloe’s sake.

Make some comment about Frank not being there because horror movies, not his thing.

Mark is steering clear of Damien as much as is physically possible for him all night. Damien could pursue him for fun and make things awkward but...he’d rather avoid Mark too.

Chloe keeps frowning at various people having bad thoughts about Damien.

Damien and Dr. Bright have some snark sessions that feel less fun to Damien than they used to be, and he can’t put his finger on why.

Damien and Mark end up in a big argument when Damien realizes Mark has been using his power unhindered all night. Damien is jealous, and also pissed that golden boy Mark can behave with impunity while everyone glares daggers at him. Mark pointing out that Damien himself has said he can’t control it, Damien saying well look at that, he learned to anyway. 

At some point, the fight crescendos with Mark saying something like, well maybe I’m just a bit more trustworthy than you, and Damien says, “Oh, _real_ rich coming from the guy who raped me!”

Everyone goes silent.

Mark, pale, angry but uncertain “I didn’t--”

Damien, “Forget I said that.”

Joan, “Damien--”

“ _ **Forget I said that.**_ ”

The next few minutes are a bit of a blur. Chloe gets him outside, out on the porch, and walks him through some meditation exercises. “Do you remember?” he asks. “Do you remember what I said?”

“Not, really,” she admits. “But I know it was bad.”

He lays his head on her shoulder. “Good to know that I lived up to everyone’s expectations. Would hate to disappoint.”

She gives him a few minutes, then tugs him up. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s go.”

They go back to his place, where her car is waiting. She gets him up, inside, sends him to the bathroom to start the nightly going-to-bed routine. It feels familiar and comfortable, having her lead him through the steps of being human.

She sees him to bed. He grabs her hand when she turns to go. She flinches, and he fucking hates it. 

“Mark raped me,” he says into the quiet. “That’s what I made everyone forget I said. It’s what I’ve been going to group for--I know Frank told you I was going, he tells you everything. In that last week, Mark--Mark had everything. _Everything_. He _owned_ me. And he might have been doing what he thought I wanted but--” huffs. “There’s a difference between forcing someone into what you think they want and actually giving them a choice.”

“I’m so sorry,” Chloe says. 

Damien looks up at her. “I need you to know that I’m not a good person.”

“Damien--”

He shakes his head. “I mean it. I’m not. You asked me what would have happened, that night I kissed you, if I could have used my ability on you? That. That’s what would have happened.” Blows out a breath. “Someone forcing someone else into what they think they both want, and neither one of them coming out of it okay.”

She can feel herself shaking, and hopes Damien can’t.

He lets go of her hand. “That’s all I wanted to say.”

She lets herself out.


	13. I want you.

Chloe spends time with Frank at the VA. He’s doing really well, has been able to work on his art series mostly himself lately. 

He can feel her mulling over serious stuff and asks her if it’s about Damien.

She wants to know if he thinks there are some things that are just, irredeemable. Things people can’t come back from. Idk what answer Frank gives. But he says, but that’s not the important thing. The important thing is, I can feel that you want to forgive him, whatever this is.

Somewhere around here is when Frank reveals that Damien is asexual, he thought Chloe knew. When she’s like, how can you tell, Frank’s like, same way I could tell with you. When you guys meet someone new, you don’t have that flicker. Flicker? Deciding whether or not you find them attractive. People do that? Shrugs. I feel what I feel.

Chloe mulls over that that doesn’t change what Damien said. He didn’t actually want sex, but he would have forced her into it, because he thought that’s how these things went. 

_Forcing someone into what you think they want isn’t the same as giving them a choice._

Knowing that, saying it out loud, said a lot about how much Damien had changed. 

Was he trying to give her a choice, by telling her what he thought the worst aspects of himself were? Giving someone a choice wasn’t such a good deed it deserved rewarding on its own.

The question, Frank interrupts her thoughts to say. “Isn’t whether or not he’s a good enough person for you. The question is, do you want him to be? People will jump through all sorts of hoops to justify why someone they care about is actually a nice person, when things would be a whole lot simpler if they just admitted, I’m willing to forgive them because I like them. So. Are you gonna stand there all day jumping through hoops? Or are you going to finally figure out if he’s a project or a friend?”

__________________________

Chloe runs through other people to talk to, and why all of them are bad ideas. Eventually she texts one of the boys. Caleb probably. Like, it’s totally a bad idea, but Sam, Joan, and Mark are out for obvious reasons, and she’s not ready to pick the conversation back up with Frank yet. 

{how did you know Adam was more than a friend}

[is this about damien?]

Chloe regrets everything.

[I don’t know, he just meant a lot to me. whenever something happened I wanted to go tell him about it. watching him watch a movie was almost as good as watching the movie because I cared more about how he was feeling than what was happening on screen. he’s safe. someone i can always come back to without worrying about all the world’s bullshit.]

{would you still be with him if he’d done something terrible}

[yeah]

[what did damien do?]  
[or is it just the kidnapping thing. I know he kidnapped mark or something.]

{why}  
{would you be with him still, I mean}

[because he’d still be all those things to me.]  
[like I don’t want him doing terrible shit but if he had I’d still be there because it wouldn’t change how I felt. it would be something I’d want to stop and idk if I could do it if he kept like hurting people or something. but I know who he is right now, and that’s someone I want to be with.]  
[this IS about damien, right?]  
[because I’m pretty sure he likes you]  
[like, likes you likes you]

{it’s about Damien}

[sweet]  
[I just mean, he seems like a cool guy, when he’s not being an asshole.]  
[sorry, I probably shouldn’t insult him if he’s going to be your boyfriend.]

{no I’m pretty sure he deserved that one}  
{am I being an idiot}

[if you want to be with him, be with him. fuck everything else.]

{that sounds like something he would say}

[yeah, well. sometimes dude has some good points.]

{yeah} Chloe texts. {sometimes he does}

__________________________

 _If you want to be with him_ , Chloe thinks, _fuck everything else_.

The problem: does the reverse hold true?

__________________________

Here are the things that Chloe knows:

Damien is better than he was.  
She is not in love with Damien.

__________________________

If someone is in pain, an unspeakable amount of pain, are you obligated to help them through it? Regardless of the cost to yourself?

Dr. Bright said no. Her mom said to be careful.

Is this the kind of careful she meant?

She can see, exactly what it would look like. Her going to his house, confessing her love for him and fuck the world. Moving in with him. Movies and concerts and clubs with him. Volunteering at the Loaves and Fishes while he played violin in the cafeteria. Him being at her side in a gallery featuring her work, reminding her that she’s better than everyone else at a vulnerable moment. Two people, with the only other people in the world they can truly be themselves with.

The picture-perfect ending to his rehabilitation. A prize at the end of the movie for being a good person.

_Isn’t that how these things go?_

_Forcing someone into what you think they want, and neither of them coming out okay._

__________________________

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Chloe says. “Do you love me?”

A long silence. “Is this some kind of trick?”

“No trick,” Chloe says, heart hammering. “Just a question.”

“Hell of a question,” Damien drawls.

“Stop stalling.”

“What, I’m not allowed to think about it for a few minutes?”

She doesn’t say anything. (She thought about it for days, after all.)

“I don’t know,” he says eventually. 

“Do you know what being in love feels like?” Chloe asks. She can hear him about to protest that he’s not a monster, and rolls right over it. “Because I don’t know if I do. But I don’t think this is it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Chloe leans back against the wall, knees drawn up to her chest. “It means, everything I know is telling me that this is what happens next. That this is how these things go.”

Silence for a while.

And then, a laugh. Rough and sharp-edged and “And if you had your ability, how would this go?”

“I’d just know what you think,” she says. “And then I’d know how to feel about it.”

He chuckles a few more times. “No,” he says. “I don’t love you.”

Her chest still feels knotted and heavy. “I don’t think I love you either,” she confesses.

“Fucking fantastic,” Damien says, and he sounds tired. “Is that all?”

“No,” Chloe says. “Do you want to come to Thanksgiving?”

“What?”

“It’s totally fine if you don’t want to, I just figured you probably didn’t have anyone to celebrate with, and my mom and I don’t exactly do a traditional dinner, but I thought it might be nice. I invited Frank, too.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s a dinner down at the VA, but I know he still feels isolated, especially around holidays, so I--”

“No, I mean. Why are you inviting me?”

“Because I want you there.”

The silence stretches long enough that she’s worried he might have hung up.

“Yeah,” he says eventually. “That’s fine.”

Chloe smiles. “Good,” she says, the twisted thing in her chest finally untangling. “You can help cook.”


End file.
